Sherlock's Duck
by Falco aesalon
Summary: Sherlock Holmes finds something that brings back happy memories. Watson is curious. Inspired by singlesorsa's Little Sherlock comics. My first SH fic and first attempt at anything fluffy. No slash.
1. The Discovery of the Duck

I was looking at singlesorsa's artwork on deviantART and the duck from the Little Sherlock comic strips inspired me to write this.

Disclaimer: I am not Sir Arthur Ignatius Conan Doyle, nor am I related to him (except that we are both human). Therefore, I do not own any rights to Sherlock Holmes or Watson.

...

It was one of those rare days when Sherlock Holmes actually mustered the energy to go through some of his old things. We were nearly done sorting things from an old trunk. I pulled out the last object, an old toy bird.

"Here's the last of it all," I said.

Holmes gave an exclamation of surprise and all but snatched the bird out of my hands.

"My deepest thanks, old chap. I was wondering where he was." Holmes was holding the bird very carefully, as though it could shatter at the slightest impact. "Do you know what this is, Watson?" he asked.

"As far as I know, it is an old toy bird."

Holmes seemed quite offended at this.

"It is not _just _a bird, Watson. It is a duck."

"A duck?"

"Yes, Watson. A duck."

"What was it doing in the bottom of that trunk?"

"It must have been stashed away there when I went to college. This duck used to be my closest friend when I was a small child."

I admit that it was harder for me to picture Homes as a small child than it was to picture a thin Mycroft Holmes.

Holmes had gotten a look on his face that told me he was thinking so much about childhood memories of the duck that he had probably forgotten all about organizing his things, so I packed away the various trunks and boxes we had uncovered.

...

All that day, Holmes seemed lost in memories of the duck. He even brought the duck to the dinner table, although Mrs. Hudson strongly disapproved. Darkness had fallen over London before Holmes spoke again.

"Watson, what can you deduce from the duck?"

This question startled me at first; I was not expecting Holmes to start talking again so soon.

"Well, as far as I can tell, it is quite old and has been on the receiving end of much love. It probably holds some sentimental value for you, seeing as you have spent the last ten hours lost in memories of the duck."

"Very good, Watson. Yes, I have had it since I was very young." Holmes was silent for a moment. "I do remember the time the little fellow went missing. I was distraught until it was found a day later."

"Where was it found?"

" My dear Watson, I would be spoiling a very good story if I were to tell you now."

...

If you haven't done so yet, do go and check out singlesorsa's stuff! (beware, some is slash though)

I hope Holmes and Watson were in character, and reviews are always appreciated!


	2. The Disappearance of the Duck

*Guillaume is pronounced like Gee-yohm (the "gee" has a "g" sound not a "j" sound). It is also French for "William" and it can be a surname.

**For those that don't know and don't want to look it up, one stone is about fourteen pounds (in weight).

...

"A good story, you say," I said.

"I think 'interesting' would be more appropriate," said Holmes.

"Well, let's hear it," I urged.

...

**Note from the beginning of Watson's journal entry: **_**I have omitted my various interruptions from the following narrative, but it is recorded almost exactly as my friend told it. – John H. Watson, M.D.**_

It was probably one of the most horrifying days of my life. The day Guillaume* disappeared.

Now, you may be tempted to laugh, Watson, but it was far from funny. There is nothing more terrifying to a child than finding that his favourite toy is missing.

I had woken up one morning only to find that Guillaume was gone. At first, I thought that maybe I had thrown him out of bed during the night or lost him in the covers. After a careful search, I knew this was not the case. I don't see how that is relevant Watson, but if you must know, I was about seven years old at the time.

Although it was a beautiful summer day, I was miserable and wondered how on earth the weather could be so wonderful when I was missing my closest friend.

I decided to ask my mother if she had seen Guillaume.

She looked up from her knitting and said, "I don't know, Sherlock. Why don't you ask your father?"

I asked my father the same question.

He looked up from his newspaper and said, "So that's the name of that - what is it – the swan that you are always carrying around with you?"

"Guillaume's _not_ a swan, father. He's a duck. I can't find him, and I wanted to know if you'd seen him laying around anywhere."

"So you've finally misplaced it, hmm? Well, I'm afraid I can't help you much; the last time I saw it, you had the goose at the dinner table, didn't you?"

I gave up on questioning my father after that, so I asked Sherrinford if he had seen Guillaume.

"I don't know, Sherlock," he replied. "Ask Mycroft, he might know."

I would have asked Mycroft, but he had locked himself in his room and hung a sign on the door asking that he be left alone. I didn't want to disturb Mycroft, as he was capable of pinning me to the floor by sitting on me (he was quite heavy for his age) and it was an experience I did not wish to repeat. Do stop laughing, Watson, it's not funny. I'm sure you wouldn't find it amusing if a mass weighing nearly eleven stones** were dropped on your seven-year-old self.

I first searched the library, turning over cushions and the tiger-skin rug on the floor and taking out books until I was sure Guillaume was not in the room. I continued in this manner throughout the house. After turning the house upside-down (metaphorically, of course) I still could not find Guillaume. I checked everywhere twice and even a third and fourth time.

I still had not found Guillaume by dinner time, and I was absolutely miserable. Mycroft seemed to be in a particularly good mood, but (according to my mind at the time) how anyone could be in a good mood during such a crisis was beyond me.

After dinner, I asked Mycroft if he knew where Guillaume was.

"What makes you think I know where that duck is, Sherlock? Have you checked everywhere?"

"Yes," I said. "I've checked everywhere more than once and I still can't find him!"

"You better keep looking, then," said Mycroft.

That night, I still had not found Guillaume. I spent the next day searching the house and even outside, but I could not find Guillaume.

My parents had gone out that night and I was alone with Sherrinford and Mycroft.

Sherrinford found me in the library, reading (pretending to read) a book.

"Sherlock," he said, "you can't just shut yourself away because your favorite toy is missing."

I heard footsteps and looked up to see Mycroft standing in the doorway. He had a slightly guilty look on his face, but I didn't know why. My first thought was that he had been sneaking food from the kitchen.

"Just tell him where it is, Mycroft," said Sherrinford. "It's not funny anymore."

I must have looked quite bereft those past few days, because Mycroft gave in to Sherrinford without a fight.

"It's on the top shelf of my book case-"

I didn't wait to hear the rest. I ran to stairs and bounded up them as fast as I could. I entered Mycroft's room and looked on the top shelf. Sure enough, there he was. I climbed the shelves to get at the top one.

I grabbed Guillaume, glad to have him back, when Mycroft came into the room.

"Sherlock!"

I must have been too eager to get to Guillaume, as I had forgotten that I was not supposed to climb the shelves. Fortunately I was light for my age, so most of the shelves in our home could hold my weight. I turned, lost my balance, and fell from the shelf, landing painfully on my left arm.

"Now do you understand why shelves are not to be climbed on?" Mycroft grabbed my arm to haul me up, but let go when I yelped in pain.

My brothers inspected my arm and they both agreed it was broken. They called the local doctor and, well, you know the standard procedure for broken limbs.

...

So, what did you think? Reviews are welcome! I am thinking of continuing this with a snippet of Watson's past or more of Sherlock. The name for the duck came from _Little Sherlock Part 6_ by_ singlesorsa_ on deviantART.

"It's a bird!" "It's a plane!" "It's Guillaume!"


End file.
